Please Don't Say You Love Me
by ayesis
Summary: With Abe's life on the line, Henry is forced to do something terrible, even though it'll kill him and take him away from Jo. Warnings for mentions of suicide. Apologies for BBC Sherlock reference. One shot.
1. A Note

_'Listen to me carefully, Henry. You're going to do everything I tell you to do.' Adam's voice chilled Henry to the bone, even over the telephone._

 _'Why would I ever do that?' the doctor replied angrily._

 _Adam's reply made his heart sink, 'Because, it'll be on Abraham's head if you don't.'_

* * *

It'd been a long day, with evidence being misplaced and suspects being killed off, Jo was just about at the end of her tether. She was finishing up a report regarding their most recently deceased suspect, a Miss Lauren Taylor. The bodies were piling up. Typical that Henry had called in sick. Jo mused on how unusual that was for him.

In all the time they'd worked together, not once had he called in sick to work. Judging by Lucas' reaction earlier in the day, it wasn't a common happening even before Jo knew him. Still, she supposed he was only human, he was bound to fall ill occasionally. She felt a presence beside her and she glanced up to see Hanson.

"Hey," she greeted, "you still here?"

Hanson shrugged and sighed, "Yeah. I had to finish up some stuff. I'm heading home now though, just came to grab my jacket."

Jo smiled, and turned her attention back to her report, penning a few more words before her desk phone startled her by ringing. She eyed it critically for a second and then picked it up, "Hello?" she was answered with nothing but silence, "Hello..?" She waited a moment, listened closely. She heard what she presumed to be the wind, but nothing else.

"Anyone there?" she asked, setting her pen down. Still no answer. She clicked her fingers at Hanson, who, as he pulled on his jacket, noticed her and raised a confused eyebrow in her direction. She spoke into the phone again, "This is Detective Mart-,"

" _Jo..."_

Jo shifted in her seat, "Henry? Hey. Is everything okay? Are you feeling better?"

It took him a moment to respond, _"Better?"_

"You're sick..." Jo reminded him, coming to the conclusion that he in fact, was not sick at all.

" _Oh,"_ he sighed, _"of course..."_

Jo's eyebrows furrowed, "You sure you're okay?"

" _Jo, I..."_ he paused, took a deep breath and exhaled.

"What's going on?" Jo shared a look with Hanson before picking up her pen, holding her phone with her chin and reaching for a pad of paper at the back of her desk.

" _I need you to listen to me, very carefully."_ he told her, _"Do you understand?"_

Hanson moved to her desk, two paces from his own, "Jo?"

"I'm listening, Henry." Jo continued, ignoring Hanson, "Is this about the case? I left a message on the store phone for you."

" _I haven't been to the store..."_ he admitted.

Jo felt panic bubbling in her gut, "What? Why? Henry where are you?"

" _Jo, listen to me... I don't have much time to explain."_ he paused and Jo heard the faint sound of a car passing by, _"I don't..."_ another pause, _"This is... a...courtesy call."_

They both remained silent for a long moment. Jo swallowed finally, "You wanna elaborate?"

He didn't answer, and Jo scribbled down three words on her pad and handed it to Hanson. He took it, eyes scanning the words quickly.

 _ **Trace the call.**_

Hanson didn't seem to need much persuasion, turning on his heel and hurrying to gather the correct talent needed for the task.

Jo pressed Henry, calling his name down the phone.

He cleared his throat, _"Jo this phone call is my note."_

She held a hand over the receiver and shouted, "I need that trace, now!"

"It's coming Detective!" was the shouted reply.

Jo removed her hand and spoke to Henry again, her voice calm, "Note?" she shook her head, as if he could see, "What note?"

" _Do I really have to say it, Detective?"_

Jo nodded, "Yeah. For me; yeah, you do." she paused, "What note?"

He took a second to answer her, and when he did she wished he hadn't, _"My suicide note."_

"Henry whatever you're thinking or feeling right now-,"

" _Don't patronise me Jo."_ Henry cut her off swiftly.

Jo chewed on her bottom lip and glanced up to see Hanson with another member of the team hurrying to her desk and setting up the trace, "Sorry..?"

" _...I'm out of time."_

"Henry please," she breathed, turning away from Hanson and the tech, "tell me where you are. I'll come and pick you up, take you home."

" _Jo, I'm not going home."_

Jo knew it, he wasn't going to stop. For whatever reason, he was ready to see his task through to the end, "What happens when you're gone?"

" _The world spins madly on."_

"No, it doesn't... it won't." She wanted to smack him, strike him down with a fist and swear blindly at him. Instead she pulled words from deep in her throat, "I lo-,"

" _Please don't say you love me."_

She bristled, "Why?"

" _Because then this becomes a lot more difficult."_

"Good." she replied, "It should be."

" _It already is, Jo, but I have no other option."_ he replied, _"_ _Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"_

"No." she said, "I won't. You know I won't." There was silence on the line and she felt sick.

" _Jo? Can I tell you something?"_

"Anything."

* * *

AN; I removed the last part of this as I am now continuing this into another chapter or two.


	2. To Mourn

AN; I wasn't planning this at all... but so many ideas... they demanded I write them. FYI, this takes place a few days after the first chapter.

* * *

Jo stared darkly into the depths of the cooling tea, eyes furrowed, jaw clenched. Her hands were wrapped around the fine china. She took a breath, soft and quiet. She chanced a look up over the stack of books and papers at Abraham, who was sitting opposite, eyes downcast, pondering his own cup of tea. Jo licked her lips nervously, "Have you..." she paused as he turned his head up to look at her, "thought... about the funeral? The wake?"

Abe sighed, fingers running over the rim of his cup, "Yes."

Jo's hands tightened on the cup, "Sorry, I don't mean to..."

Abe smiled slightly, "He had it all planned out."

"But he was so young..." Jo muttered, slightly surprised.

"You know Henry." Abe replied, taking a sip of his tea.

Jo looked away, out of the window, "Yeah... guess it is the kinda thing he'd do."

Abe set his cup down, "Next week, Thursday."

She turned back, "And the wake? Are you having it here?"

Abe shook his head, "There's not going to be a wake, Jo."

"What? Why?" she asked, sipping her tea, despite it being cold.

"Henry wouldn't want one." Abe told her shortly.

"He wouldn't want us to celebrate his life? His work?"

Abe stood up, stretched his arms and legs, "We can celebrate his life and work the rest of our lives. Henry's not the type to be forgotten so easily. I don't need to stand with a bunch of people who didn't know him well and listen to them be 'sorry for my loss' for an hour or more while they choke down miniature cucumber sandwiches with no crusts on them."

Jo watched him as he turned towards the kitchen, "Henry was well liked, he had a lot of people who cared about him."

"You, Detective Grumpy, Molly and Lucas doesn't really count for 'a lot'." Abe reminded.

"Surely he has family and friends in England?"

"I was Henry's sole family, his only friend. At least until he met you." Abe rummaged in the fridge. Jo remained quiet, "Besides, even if I wanted to have a wake, it was Henry's wish not to. I will respect that wish."

Jo's eyes followed him as he moved away from the fridge with a bottle of wine in hand. She cleared her throat, "I should..." a pause, "...go."

"Don't want to stay for the main course?" Abe asked, holding up the bottle for her to see.

Jo stood and collected her cup and saucer before walking towards the elder, "I can't. I have to get back to work."

Abe set the bottle down and turned to her, "You should take some time."

"To do what?" she asked, offering him the crockery.

He took it, placed it down on the worktop to his side and then took Jo's hands in his own, "Mourn."

Jo felt her heart aching, "I can't." he was quiet, waiting for her. She swallowed a lump in her throat, "I can't... because if I do..." she paused, composed herself, "then I won't be able to stop."

Abe smiled sadly and after a moment, he pulled her to him, embracing her. Arms wrapping around her, warm and comforting.

"I keep thinking-, hoping, that he'll walk through the door and..." she trailed off, pulled away, "I'm sure you feel the same."

Abe's eyebrows raised slightly, "Of course." Only he does walk through the door, and then we have dinner... He patted her arms and allowed her to step back away from him.

"I'll see you next Thursday." she promised.

"Take care Jo." Abe called after her retreating form. She disappeared down the staircase and Abe let out a breath, leaning back against the worktop. He heard the faint ding of the bell, signifying her departure. He meandered downstairs after a minute, locked up and then headed back upstairs. He walked with intent, ending his march at Henry's bedroom door. He thought about knocking, and then he opened the door without doing so.

The room was dark save the oil lamp on the bedside table. An old and work armchair sat in front of the window, facing away from him.

"Henry," Abe breathed, eyes trained on the chair, "you've gotta tell her."

Henry rose from the chair silently, setting down a book on the end of the bed as he turned and moved past it. He took the four strides to Abe without a word. He lifted his arms, and placed his hands on his sons shoulders, "Abraham," he leant in, kissed him on the forehead, and pulled back, shaking his head, "you know that I can't."

Abe pulled Henry's hands from him, clasped them in his own, "Were you listening? Did you hear her?"

Henry sighed, "Please, Abraham..."

Abe let his fathers hands go, and grasped him by the upper arms instead, "I don't care for your reasons, pops. She's really hurting over this. You're hurting her."

"Abe." Henry warned.

Abe huffed, "Fine." he held up his hands in defeat, "Fine." he turned out of the room and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm making dinner if you want some!"

"I'm not hungry." Henry replied quietly before pushing the door closed with a sigh.


	3. An Empty Box

It was raining. Of course it bloody was. Even the weather was mourning the downfall of Henry Morgan. Jo was standing next to Abraham, holding an umbrella over the both of them, listening to the rain on the taught fabric. Abe had remained oddly stoic throughout the entire service, seemingly not upset over his close friends untimely death. Jo herself had remained the same, eyes continuously ahead, staring off into the distance rather than watching the Priest, who had rambled on and on about Henry as though they had been the best of friends. Jo didn't know much about Henry's religious beliefs. Him being the scientist he was, she had assumed that he had been Atheist, though she'd never asked nor felt it important. She had also assumed Abe to be Jewish, going by his story of being rescued from a Jewish internment camp when he was a young infant. Abe shifted next to her and she glanced over to him.

"You want to go?" she asked softly.

She watched as Abe turned his head slightly to look back at her, "No, but I can't spend the rest of my life standing here with him. I've got a store to run."

"Does it bother you?"

"What?"

Jo took a calming breath, "That he's not here."

Abe nodded, "Of course, he's dead-,"

"No," Jo cut him off, "that's not what I meant." Abe sighed and Jo turned to face him head on, "I mean... doesn't it bother you that he's not _here_? That we didn't find him..." she paused to corrected herself, "his body..."

Abe took a moment to school a reply, "No."

Jo looked confused, "Why? Don't you want closure?"

Abe placed a hand on her shoulder, "I got closure the minute you told me he was on a bridge when the trace came through. I... have closure, because, so does he."

Jo turned away sharply, chewing her bottom lip, "How did I not notice this? I'm a Detective for god's sake."

"The same way I didn't," Abe said, "because he was good at hiding it, good at lying." _Henry I'm going to kill you for making me do this._

Jo sighed, exasperated, "It's just, not like him.

"No," Abe agreed, "but I guess he was pretty desperate." _Yeah, desperate to save my backside._

She spun the umbrella in her grip, "I guess." She eyed the picture of Henry that was stood in front of the casket. It was framed, but the photo itself was blurry; Lucas' work. He'd caught Henry off-guard one evening after work while they were enjoying a few drinks. Henry's gaze wasn't directed at the camera, it was drawn by something else, and though it was a poor quality shot, Jo saw how damn happy he looked. He was laughing, crows feet lining his eyes.

Abe interrupted her thoughts with a gentle cough to clear his throat, "I should head back... the store won't run itself."

Jo wondered why he was leaving so soon after such a loss, surely the store could wait another few minutes. Instead she nodded, "Okay."

Abe patted her arm again and she gave him the umbrella. He protested but she was entirely content to stand in the rain. If she caught a cold, so be it.

At least she was alive.

* * *

Abe walked away, slowly at first, then more quickly, stepping as fast as his body would allow. He came level to a large oak tree and from behind it, Henry stepped out. Abe paused briefly, stared at him and then kept walking.

"Abe?"

"It's **sick**!" Abe replied, irritated, "Attending your own funeral!"

Henry caught up with his son easily, "I didn't 'attend', I... observed. From a distance."

Abe stopped walking, "It's still screwed up!" a pause, "Why can't you go all _Sherlock Holmes_ on this?"

"Firstly, Holmes is _fictional_. Secondly, Adam was extraordinarily clear."

" **Screw Adam!** " Abe snapped.

"No!" Henry's voice raised a notch in reply to Abe, "He was clear... that I should die, and then remain six-foot-under, or your life would be forfeit. I believe him, he's already taken you once. I cannot risk it. You mean far too much to me."

Abe sighed and finally turned to face his father, offering him a sad smile, "Pops, I'm seventy-one this year. Like it or not, I'm nearing my best-before date."

Henry shook his head, "Abraham," he placed a hand on Abe's shoulder, squeezing gently, "please don't say that."

"It's true. I'm not gonna live forever, and when I've gone, you'll need somebody," Abe's smile lightened slightly, "Jo is good for you."

Henry shook his head again, determined, "Jo believes me dead."

"So did mom." Abe countered.

Henry pursed his lips, "I doubt Jo would be quite as accommodating."

"You're not giving her enough credit." Abe reprimanded the older man.

"Abraham, I cannot loose you _and_ Jo." Henry told him.

"You've already lost her, pops." Abe reminded, "She's back at your _empty_ coffin, mulling over how awful a person she is beca-," Abe cut himself off when his eyes drifted past Henry and spied Jo walking towards them, "ah, crap."

Henry noticed Abe's eyes lingering behind him, and he almost turned when Abe grasped his scarf, "Abraham-?!"

Abe swore his father was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, honestly, it was a wonder how he once went eleven years without a single death. The man could be impossibly foolish. Abe ground out his next words, "It's the _'police'_."

Henry's eyes widened slightly, "I-I'll, meet you at home, shall I?" he didn't wait for Abe to agree or disagree, simply pushed off, hurrying away from them. Abe shifted on his feet as Jo came closer.

"I thought you were going?" she asked as she came to stop in front of him. She glanced behind him to see Henry retreating, "Who was that?"

Abe grasped at straws for several moments until he managed a choked, "Friend from England."

One of Jo's eyebrows rose steadily into her hairline, "I thought you said Henry didn't have any friends..?"

 _Shit._ Abe nodded slowly, "Oh, y-yeah... I did say that, didn't I? W-well it turns out that-,"

Jo held up a hand to silence him, "Look, it's none of my business." She noted how relieved Abe looked, offered a smile, "Want a lift back to the shop?"

Abe chuckled nervously.


End file.
